Ivar had come to Pictland. The Picts, painted in blue woad with wild hair, fled in all different directions. They were unprepared for this surprise attack.

Ivar spots a woman in the clash of fighting. She’s perfect, Ivar thinks. The perfect woman. She fights, defending herself as best she can. But as she spots the mighty warrior king on his chariot, she turns and flees as fast as she can. Ivar laughs as he makes chase, now determined to catch her.